On Loving Paul
by Emma the Fish
Summary: [McLennon] Paul McCartney and John Lennon met in 1957. This is John's story of what it is to love Paul.
1. Chapter 1

John Lennon - a sixteen year old with auburn hair gelled back into an Elvis Presley hairdo - strummed the last chord up on the platform along with his band, The Quarrymen. The crowd of teenagers cheered in the yard that that The Quarrymen were playing in for a town party. Some adults clapped politely or cheered while others ignored the band completely. John caught a glimpse of his mother, Julia, clapping from the audience. She had left him with his Aunt Mimi when he was five but he had gotten in touch with her again. He didn't know what to think about her leaving him, but he really wanted to get to know her. "Come on, Johnny Boy." Stu nodded his head toward the Community House where school concerts and dances and graduations were held. It was quite empty, but it was fine like that. John and the rest of his band - except for Pete, who was off doing who knows what - were drinking beer and smoking cigarettes. Time passed this for about a half hour, until John's band mate Pete walked in with a younger boy who couldn't be more than fourteen. "Hey, Johnny." Pete grinned. "There's someone I'd like you to meet." The boy had dark hair that was Elle's similarly to John's. He had soft brown eyes and casually wore a white dress with clean trousers and shoes. He also - John immediately noticed - had a guitar strapped over his shoulder. John took a swig of his beer before setting the bottle down on a cardboard box. He took a step toward Pete and the younger boy. "He plays, too." Pete stated. "What?" John smirked. "With himself?" The boy didn't really react. "I do," John grinned smugly. "It's good for the wrist muscles." The boy through his eyes in a circle. John chuckled and extended his hand. "I'm John," The boy gripped his hand an shook it firmly. "Paul," "Well, Paul, did see our performance?" John shoved his hands in his pockets. "Yeah, I did." Paul nodded. "You're alright." The rest of The Quarrymen began whispering among themselves. John's expression fell, then rose back to a smirk. "Alright?" He questioned. "How are you on that thing there?" John asked, jerking his head toward Paul's guitar. "I'm alright," Paul swung the guitar around and began strumming. "Oh dirty Maggie Mae they have taken her away And she never walk down Lime Street any more Oh the judge he guilty found her For robbing a homeward bounder That dirty no good robbin' Maggie Mae To the port of Liverpool the air it turns me tool Two pounds ten a week, that was my pay." John's smirk was moulded into a subtle smile. "You're alright. How old are you?" "Fifteen," Paul said. John nodded. "The name's John Lennon. Look me up in the phone book if you want to play a gig with us some time." Paul nodded. "Sounds good." And he turned on his heel to walk out. "Oi!" John called after him. Paul whipped around. "What?" "What if I want to look you up in the phone book?" John smirked again. Paul crossed his arms. "Paul McCartney," and with that, he left. "Okay," John nodded. "Paul McCartney." And then he turned back to his band. "John!" Mimi called from the kitchen. "Someone's on the phone for you!" John hurried down to the kitchen and snatched the phone away from his aunt. "Thank you. Paul?" "So, you've been expecting my call." Paul said in a cocky tone. "It took you long enough," John chuckled, though. "It's been two bloody weeks." "Yeah, yeah, yeah." Paul said. "Do you want to meet at the park today and play some guitar?" "Sounds good," John nodded. "When?" "How about now?" Paul suggested. "Perfect," John agreed. "See you soon." "See you," Paul said before hanging up. The line went dead. 


	2. Chapter 2

A month after John and Paul met, they decided to meet at the park a bit later than usual. They were going to meet up at eight, after the sun had gone down. John sat on a park bench in the dark, lightly strumming his guitar. The park was deserted now that it was dark, but there was one figure approaching through the dim light of the street lamps and the crescent moon. "Paul," John nodded to him as he sat down. "Hey, John." "Right, put the guitar down." "Come again?" "I said put the guitar down," John snatched the instrument away from his friend. "JOHN!" Paul yelped. "Give it back, John!" John leaned it up against the side bench and stood his own guitar beside Paul's. "After we do this," "What?" Paul sighed. "I'm going to ask a question and we'll both answer it," John answered. "Then you'll ask a question and we'll both answer. Then the pattern just continues." "Um, why?" Paul furrowed his brows. "We should know each other a bit better if we're going to be mates, don't you think?" The two has become closer than John had ever been with a person in their mere two weeks of really knowing each other. "Fine," "Okay," John rubbed his hands together. "Full name?" Paul sighed heavily. "James Paul McCartney," John gave him a quizzical look. "Your na- you - what?" "Yes," Paul spat. "Don't run it in, okay?" John shook his head. "It's just - just that you don't look like a James - " "What about you?" John chuckled. "John Winston Lennon." "Winston?" Paul looked curious. "Like Winston Churchill?" "The very same," John nodded. "Okay, my turn." Paul said. "When's your birthday?" "October ninth," John said. "June eighteenth," said Paul. "Okay," John thought for a few moments. "What's your mum like?" Paul's face fell. "Well - well, sweet and kind and loving. So gentle, she would never hurt a fly. She used to sit in my room at night and song me to sleep when I was younger." John frowned. "What's wrong, Paul?" Paul shook his head. "What is it?" John persisted. "Does she not like the rock 'n roll image?" Paul shook his head again. "No, it's not that. She - she - " John waited rather impatiently. "She died last year," Paul blurted out. John's eyes widened. "Wha- I - what?! A month since we met and this never came up?" Paul sighed. "Well, what about you?" "Well, I just really met her for the first time since I was five about three months ago." John said as casually as if he were commenting on the weather. "She left me, see, with my Aunt Mimi. I'm still trying to build an opinion on her." Paul gave a subtle smirk. "A month since we met and you have failed to mention this until now?" John rolled his eyes. "So there's your mum, your name is actually James, any other secrets I should know about?" Paul shrugged. "I've got a brother," John nodded slowly. He had an idea to mess with Paul. "So, if your birthday was two months ago then that means I never got you a birthday gift." Paul slumped back. "We didn't know each other," "So?" Paul put his hands behind his head with another sigh. "You could give my guitar back to me," "I was thinking something more along the lines of this," John took a fistful of Paul's shirt and dragged him to his feet. "Hey!" Paul yelped. "John! Oi! Stop it! What the hell do you think you're doing?!" John pushed Paul up against a tree that stood nearby and pinned his arms above his head. "What are you doing?" Paul asked shakily. John leaned in so that their noses were touching and chuckled inwardly. Paul was too gullible. "John," Paul drew a shaky breath. Paul's eyes were wide, John noticed, bugging out of his head. "I'm just me- " he was about to pull away, but John was suddenly interrupted by Paul's lips on his own. John quickly jumped back and stated at Paul in absolute and utter shock. "What the hell, McCartney?!" "You're the one who pinned me to the tree!" Paul exclaimed. "I was only messing with you!" John yelled, exasperated. Realization flooded into Paul's doe eyes. "O-oh," "You - you - I can't believe you would - what the bloody fucking hell?!" "I - I just - John, I - " Paul stammered. John considered what had just happened. It was illegal, of course. But there was something about it. Something that felt so...right. Paul still stood against the tree, trembling slightly. John was going to hate him forever. Any friendship they could have had was over and there was no way John would let him into any band now. John moved toward Paul and pinned him to the tree again. "J-John?" "Shut up," John kissed Paul roughly, and Paul willingly replied. Their lips moved in sync, lips and teeth battling each other. John pulled away from Paul but kept him trapped against the tree. "What have we done?" Paul shook his head. "I don't know," "Mimi, I'm home!" John called into the house. "I've got a friend with me!" John's aunt hurried into the room. "John Winston Lennon, it is nine o' clock." "And my curfew is eleven," John pointed out. "I didn't know where you were!" Mimi shouted. "I was out running the errands, I went to dinner with a friend, then I come home and it's seven thirty and I haven't a clue where you are!" John rolled his eyes. "This is Paul," Paul smiled and waved politely. Mimi sighed heavily before smiling kindly at Paul. "Nice to meet you, dear. I've heard so much about you." "Yeah, we're just going to go upstairs." John said. "Are you spending the night, Paul?" Mimi asked. Paul though for a moment. "If it's no trouble, I'd love to." "Okay," Mimi nodded. "Just ring your parents to let them know. The phone's in the kitchen. I'm off to bed. Goodnight, boys." "Goodnight, ma'am." Paul said before going into the kitchen and calling his father. John waited on the stairs and when Paul returned the two of them walked up to John's room. "Right," said John as he closed the door. "What the hell do we do now?" Paul frowned. "I'm not even really sure what happened back at the park." He tentatively sat down on the edge of John's bed. "It was illegal," said John. "I can tell you that much." "It was good, though." Paul blurted out, then quickly looked up in realization of what he had just said. But John nodded in agreement and bent over a bit to cup Paul's face and plant a kiss on his lips. "Different," John pecked the younger boy's lips again. "Very different," he was speaking against Paul's jaw, now. "But still - " he kiss Paul's jaw line. " - very good." Paul relaxed, then tensed again, eyes wide. "But what do we do now?" "I don't know," John sighed. "I mean I - I felt a spark." He looked worried at the fact that he has said that out loud and he poorly tried conceal the concern. But Paul didn't even notice. "Yeah. Me, too." "And you're sweet," John said. "What?" Paul looked at him. "You're sweet and kind and gentle," John sat down beside Paul and wrapped and arm around him. "Just lien your mum, I suppose. And you've got gorgeous eyes." Paul chuckled. "You're not too bad yourself," "So," John sighed happily. "Are we dating?" Paul nuzzled into John's neck. "I think so," "Thank goodness," John grinned 


	3. Chapter 3

*hey guys ;) so I'm sorry if it feels like in rushing into the romance part but there is a reason for that which will be revealed later on. Also this is kind of a short chapter...sorry cx enjoy! And please please please comment and tell me what you think so far*

Another two weeks passed and nothing extremely interesting happened. In all honesty, Paul and John were just confused at what was going on with their feelings and a million questions were running through both of their heads.

Was it just a kiss and nothing more?

What will happen if anyone finds out?

What if someone already found out?

What if it was more than a kiss and they were falling in love?

It was very difficult to keep their thoughts straight while all of this and much more was running through their heads.

Paul noticed, though, that the more time he spent with John, the more time he wanted to spend with John. He genuinely enjoyed his time with John, more than he enjoyed his time with any other being. He was - quite honestly - coming to adore the older boy.

One day, about a week before school started again for the two of them, Paul was sitting with John again in his room. They were just sitting there. Looking at each other. As they often did.

Paul had a distant look in his eyes, staring off into space. He wasn't talking, and neither was John, as they often didn't.

"What's wrong?" John noticed something was a bit off in Paul's mood.

Paul looked over at him, snapping out of his trance. "I was just thinking,"

"About what?" John questioned.

"Us..." Paul stared off into space again. "Us...and what we are. What is us?"

"I don't know," John shook his head. "But it is - " he got very close to Paul's face so that their noses were touching. " - gorgeous."

Paul snaked one arm around John's neck and pulled him closer to kiss his lips. John happily responded to the kiss.

"But," Paul paused. "What - what are we?"

John avoided Paul's gaze.

"John?"

"Paul, I - "

"John!"

He looked into the younger boy's doe eyes. "I - I don't know, I certainly do like it."


	4. Chapter 4

Within another couple of weeks, school started again. John was in his second to last year before college while Paul was in his third to last year. The third day back to school, after his English class, John caught Paul in the hallway. "Shall we have lunch together?" Paul smiled. "We shall," They headed to the cafeteria, side by side, and began discussing what they should do later on. John suggested that he come over to Paul's house, but Paul said that they should go to John's house, or even the park. John sighed. "Paul, do you not want me to come to your house? Is it about your dad or your brother?" Paul shook his head and shrugged his shoulders. "It's nothing, just - I don't know. Let's just stick to your place, John. Mimi doesn't mind me, does she? Because if she does, then we could go to the - " "No, no." John shook his head. "She adores you. She's always going on about how you're the best friend I've ever had because you're a good influence on me." He snorted. "I suppose she still hadn't realized that no one - no matter who they are - influences me." Paul smiled. "Well, my dad doesn't really like new visitors unless he invites them over, so it's best if we just stick to your place." John nodded. "Okay," he didn't question Paul further….yet. Paul unlocked the front door and stepped into the house. It was nearly midnight. Time had gotten away from him. He and John had been writing music and time had just flown by. Paul's dad was sitting at the table with a newspaper. When Paul closed the door behind himself, his father laid it down and slammed his fist down on the table. "Curfew was nearly an hour ago, you idiot!" "I - I'm sorry, dad, I just - " "No excuses!" Mr. McCartney roared. "I trust you to be home by eleven sharp and you have let me down! You're a miserable excuse for a son!" Paul frowned. His father had been drinking again, he just knew it. He could tell when his father got drunk. The signs were always there, plain as daylight. "I'm going to bed," he sighed. Mr. McCartney continued to shout after his eldest son, but Paul just ignored him and went up to his room. He kicked off his shoes and crawled beneath the covers without changing and sobbed into his pillow.…that wasn't the worst his father had ever said or done to him….and - though he could not have possibly been aware of it at the time - the worst was still to come. The following morning, Paul woke earlier than he usually did and quickly git ready for school, hoping to miss his dad on his way out of the house.…no such luck. "Where are you going?" Mr. McCartney snapped. "School," Paul replied shortly, picking up his bag full of books from the counter and slinging it over his shoulder. "It's a Friday. I have school." "You don't need to leave for another hour," Paul's father scowled. "So where the hell are you going?" "Some class mates and I are meeting early for a school project," Paul lied smoothly. "I have to go. Bye." He ignored the angry shouts that followed him and left the house without another word, now somewhat concerned about how his father would treat Mike when Paul's younger brother woke up. As Paul approached the school, he saw John sitting on a bench out front. "What are you doing here so early, Johnny?" He asked. "I could ask you the same thing," John smirked. "I just needed to get away from Mimi and he constant nagging. And what about you?" Paul shook his head with a deep sigh and sat down beside John. "My dad's being an arse, that's all. Everything has been so different and strange and.…and wrong ever since my mum died. My dad's gone a bit crazy, if you ask me. Stress and grief, it's ruining him. But Mike is only eleven, so he sees him as the big bad wolf who's out for his blood." John furrowed his brows with a deep frown and thought about Paul's words for a long time. Eventually, he spoke again. "Has he hit you?" "What?" Paul looked up in shock. "Has he ever hit you or your brother?" John repeated his question nod Paul could see a glint of dangerous anger in his eyes. And concern. Something no one else ever saw in him. Worry, care, and sentiment. "No," Paul shook his head. "Okay," John nodded and stood, immediately acting as if the conversation had never happened. Without another word or explanation, he just walked away. Paul sat there and sighed heavily. He was mad at himself. Angry. Enraged! How could he do this? He mentally punched and kicked himself over and over again until he was mentally exhausted. Because he hated lying to John. 


	5. Chapter 5

John's suspicion was weighing down on Paul's mind for the next month or so. John's birthday came and he turned seventeen. Paul was at his house late, until almost one. Again, time had gotten away from him and he hurried home to find his father in the kitchen, tapping his foot impatiently. "Dad, I can explain - " "IT'S ALMOST ONE IN THE FUCKING MORNING!" Mr. McCartney roared. "You'll wake Mike - " "ONE IN THE MORNING! YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO BE HOME ALMOST TO HOURS AGO! NOW, YOU HAD BETTER TELL ME WHERE THE HELL YOU'VE BEEN BEFORE I PUMMEL YOU!" Paul gulped. "I was at a friend's house. It's his birthday, and - " "A likely story," Paul's father scowled. "I don't think so! I think you were with a girl!" "I wasn't!" Paul shook his head. "I was at my friend John's house - " "Paul?" A small voice came from the top of the stairs and eleven year old mike rubbed his eyes. "Are you alright? I was worried when you didn't come home." "I'm fine, Mikey." Paul looked up the stairs at his younger brother. "Go on back to bed, okay?" Mike nodded slowly and quickly went back to his bedroom. "Listen to me," Paul's dad growled. "This is twice now you've been home past curfew. If it ever happens again, you'll wish you'd never been born. Got it?" Paul's bottom lip quivered. "I said - " Mr. McCartney grabbed Paul by his shirt and slammed him into the wall. "Got it?" Paul quickly nodded, his head throbbing viciously. "Good," and the bastard stormed up the stairs and went to his room, residing himself for bed. Meanwhile, Paul sat against the wall, curled up in a tight ball. He let the tears fall. They rolled down his cheeks, dampening his pale skin. He needed help, but he didn't know how to ask for it. He sat there, eyes untired, waiting for sleep to come..…no such luck. Paul watched his father leave the house for work before Mike came down. "Paul?" He whimpered. "Are you alright?" The older boy nodded slowly. "Yeah, Mikey. I'm fine." "You sure?" "Yep," Paul slowly got to his feet and tried to hide the fact that his head was spinning at top speed. He hid it poorly, however, as he almost fell flat on his face. "Wha-what time is it?" "Seven," Mike said. "WHAT?!" Paul yelped. "I've got school! I - oh my God - I'm going to be late! See you later, Mike!" Without another word, he ran up the stairs and quickly got dressed for school. He was out the door in another ten minutes, clutching his book bag, and he ran. He had already missed his bus, so he had to go by foot. That took fifteen minutes. He tore through the halls, quickly taking out the books he would need for his first few classes as he arrived at his locker. Paul quickly opened the locker and shoved his bag in, then hurried off to English class. "You're late, Mr. McCartney." Mr. Kingsley seemed absolutely shocked. "I - take a seat." Paul did as he was told. At lunch, John dropped down beside Paul and laughed. "There's a rumor going around the school that you were going to ditch English but changed your mind and showed up late. I've been telling everyone that you would never be late for class." "I was late, but I wasn't going to ditch." Paul huffed. "I was just running late, that's all." John's eyes bugged out of his head and, without any explanation, he grabbed Paul's elbow and dragged him out of the cafeteria and through the halls. "John, what are you doing?" The older boy didn't answer. They came to a janitor's closet and John looked side to side several times before opening the door and pulling Paul inside. He pulled a string that hung from the ceiling and a small light turned on. "What's wrong, Paul?" "Come again?" "I know you," John crossed his arms. "You would g be late for class. You always get up in time to be here when you need to be, and - " "Nothing is wrong, John." Paul turned to leave. "Paulie - " John grabbed Paul's hand. The younger boy quickly yanked his hand away. "Nothing is wrong, John!" And he stormed out of the closet and back to the cafeteria. *please leave comments and let me know what you think and also please refer any Beatles shippers you know to this story ;) love you* 


	6. Chapter 6

It was Christmas Day. Mike was at a friend's house and Paul was pulling his shoes in at ten in the morning while his father was passed out on the couch, already drunk. He quickly threw on his coat and grabbed the bag of wrapped gifts and ran out the door. The snow was coming down at what seemed to be a mile a minute, whipping Paul in the face and sticking to his hair. At long last, he arrived on John's doorstep and rang the doorbell. Within seconds, the door swung open to reveal Mimi. "Paul!" She grinned. "So glad you could make it!" She grabbed Paul's gloved hands and pulled him inside, quickly slamming the door. "John is in the sitting room. We've got a few others over for the holiday." It was quite obvious to Paul that Mimi had already had several glasses of wine, so he just smiled and nodded, heading for the living room where he set the bag he was holding down on a chair and looked around at everyone who was there. John, Pete, Stuart, and George were all sitting and standing around the room along with a few older women who Paul assumed to be Mimi's friends. When John spotted Paul, he grinned and ran over as Paul pulled off his gloves and his coat. "Merry Christmas, Paulie." John put a hand on Paul's shoulder. "Merry Christmas, Johnny Boy." Paul returned the grin and laughed and he patted John's shoulder. "Come on," John grabbed Paul's hand. "I've got something to show you." He dragged his younger band mate out of the room and the two clambered up the stairs into John's room. The curtains were drawn shut and there was only a candle to light the room. John pulled Paul to the center of the room and motioned for him to look up. There was mistletoe taped to the ceiling. Paul looked at John and rolled his eyes, but leaned in and kissed John, wrapping his arms around the slightly taller boy's neck. When they pulled away, John pressed his lips against Paul's forehead and hummed against his skin with a smile. But soon Paul felt his smile fade into a deep frown. "Paul?" "Hmm?" "I know you too well," John said. "You would have been late for class without a good reason, and - " "Not this again," Paul sighed. "John, that was in October. Let it go, already." "I can't," John pulled away from Paul completely and just looked at him. "I'm worried about you, alright? I - I just want to make sure you're safe and with your dad - " "Don't worry about my dad, okay?" Paul offered a small, reassuring smile. "That's my job. You just worry about yourself." John sighed heavily. "You know you can tell me anything, right?" Paul smiled a bit wider. "Of course I do," he nodded. "I just don't have anything to tell you." Paul walked through the door that night just a few minutes before his curfew. His dad was sitting at the kitchen table with a beer bottle. Paul hurried toward the stairs, desperate to avoid his father, but it was no use. "Hold it right there, not!" Mr. McCartney snapped. "Where have you been all day?!" "At a friend's house," Paul said, gripping the staircase railing tightly. "On Christmas Day?" "Mike was at a friend's house," "He was given permission," "I was under the impression that you didn't care," and without another word, Paul raced up the stairs and off to his room. He collapsed onto his bed in a fit of sobs. His father didn't care. Perhaps he had never cared and it had always been his mother. But his father didn't care, he only wanted to make Paul and Mike's lives miserable. *i don't know how much longer I'll keep this going because it's my least popular story, mclennon isn't an extremely popular thing on here, and this wasn't really an extended story idea. But if this gets more popular, I'll consider keeping it going longer* 


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